


So (baby) is that all you've got?

by vash (yarost)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, PWP, some mistakes were made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarost/pseuds/vash
Summary: Albus Dumbledore is human too once in a while, and, like any other human, he sins.Or: he misses Gellert too much. Tom Riddle helps him out.





	So (baby) is that all you've got?

**Author's Note:**

> So let just say I loved Jude Law's portrayal of Dumbledore and I loved his veiled, guilty love for Gellert. When I started writing this I didn't have a plot for a Gellert/Albus fic so, like Dumbledore in this fic, I'm using Tom to fulfil some wishes. Dumbledore is his charming Jude Law self, Tom is in his twenties, and beautiful (I'll never forgive JK for giving the trash lord a snake face). Dumbledore knows Tom's evil but, well, that dick is too good. 
> 
> I have no excuses, this is pure filth. 
> 
> Horny on main people, this one's for you.

 

 

Gellert had known him human, and often told him so – _I’ve known you in ways no one else will, I’ve known your secret shames, I’ve known how you desire._ Undressed, bent, enraptured, a mouth still ajar, curling around the last, trembling sounds of an orgasm.

He couldn’t let Tom know him in the same way, and yet here he was.

The boy was looking at him with all the joy of a puppy now finally big enough to bite. Neither a puppy nor a boy any longer, Tom was taller than him now, slender but broad shouldered and terrifyingly beautiful, the promise of his adolescence finally bloomed. He was dark where Gellert had been gold and blue of eye where Gellert had been grey – but they were both pale. They both had hungry smiles.

“Did he fuck you often?” Tom asked, cruel, but cruelty fitted him fine. “Did you suck his cock?”  

“Actually,” Albus answered, with a convincing mimicry of his calm smile **, “** he fucked me as often as I did him.” Briefly, a look of surprise in Tom’s face. That brought some of his confidence back and now his smile wasn’t so tremulous. “What? Are you surprised that your idol took as good as he gave? Did you think…oh dear; did you think I was the _woman_?”  

Behind him there was a bookshelf and the edges of some of the volumes dug on his back. A single light in the room and Tom loomed over him, and everything peripheral to the space between their bodies was shadowed and immaterial. He thought that, perhaps, he was about to be murdered, not fucked. And maybe that was the only mercy Voldemort could bestow upon him. If this went on, he was about to be wicked. He was about to make again the same mistake but worse – way worse, because this was merely lust, not love, this was the neediness of a man growing grey in the hair who went to bed every night lacking a warmth that his hand and his memories could never emulate. His eyes looked at Tom’s eyes but they lingered too on his lips.

Tom put a spread hand near his head and used the other to raise his chin.

“It doesn’t really matter, _professor._ ” His student said, recovering from Albus’ little jab at his lack of knowledge, and at his, well, apparent and ignorant heterosexuality. “Get on your knees.”

“I wonder what’s in it for you,” Albus asked conversationally after obeying, looking up and undoing the work of Tom’s belt with his hands, no magic “I remember seeing you only with girls back then – or was this another thing you were hiding?”

“I do prefer girls,” Tom let a finger trace the side of his teacher’s face, “but the vision of you on your knees is enough to make me hard.”

Albus smiled, because he expected that. Tom was predictable, in a way. Elusive, but predictable.

“So you get aroused on my humbling alone then?”

The young man scoffed.

“Do you want soft words from me? Do you want me to tell you that you’re beautiful and your eyes are the blue of a cold fire? Was that what he used to say?”

“No,” he buried his face for a moment against the hard line of Tom’s erection, because he was a man that missed what he missed and in that dark space where Tom was just as human as he was, male and base too, he could have been with anyone. When he drew back, his cheeks were warm not with embarrassment but with the fever that came with arousal. And he – he looked up, at that young man with lips slightly parted that was probably thinking nasty, terrible things about him now (he even tried to pry for a moment, but Tom’s occlumency was just as good as his legilimency) and he didn’t _want_ to pretend Tom was anyone else. He wanted a pup Dark Lord to be mean to him – just like Gellert had been. So he gave him more fuel. “He called me _Liebling._ ” And _geliebter_ too, on one occasion, but he wouldn’t share that with Tom.

“Go on then, Liebling.” Tom urged, almost kindly, with a hand curled around Albus’ hair. “Suck me.”

He closed his eyes. Tom’s cock was thick and long and filled his mouth, so much he had to stop twice and try again before taking him fully. All those years of celibacy; he had almost forgotten how to do it. But it came back to him quicker than he expected. During that summer he did it almost every day, kneeling down or on the bed, taking every sound that Gellert made into his heart and into his pride. He never thought he could be good at something so carnal, so Dionysian, but indeed he was and Gellert would tell him so, afterwards, cleaning the remains of cum from his lips.

Tom didn’t do the things he thought he would do: the pulling of his hair to make him choke, the mocking words, the name-calling. He thought he would, he thought he would take that opportunity and explore it for all its filth. So. Not as predictable as Albus thought, Tom was sparing as much grace as a man can with his cock in another’s mouth. His hand did tighten, however, and from him Albus heard a groan. But he pulled out before completion, leaving the professor surprised. Was he really passing up the chance of coming on his enemy’s mouth or better yet, his face?

Or was that just wishful thinking?

Some of his surprise must have shown. Those clear-blue eyes of his, where pools of his soul laid bare.

“Did you think I’d be satisfied by that sloppy blow job?” The pup Dark Lord taunted. “I’m coming inside you, old man.”

Like Gellert had done many times, rejoicing in the marking.

(Would he be jealous, if he knew? Did Albus want, somehow to make him jealous? Wasn’t he above the pettiness of such revenges?)

“Oh?” he licked his lips, where still salt could be tasted. “I didn’t think you’d go so far.”

Tom laughed at that and the sound and the turn of his mouth made him even more beautiful. For a moment, Albus mourned for him because he was rotten, beautiful and rotten and probably beyond reach. Lost – as Gellert was lost to him now.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it.” Tom pressed his foot against the hardness between his teacher’s legs and Albus almost gasped. He was wearing grey, two parts of a three piece and a very elegant white shirt; he was so proper, even on his knees with his lips red. But what properness could resist a touch he had been so long starving for? He closed his eyes and for a second let his hips rock back and forth.  Sinless years unravelled by so little. In that second he was giving Voldemort a weapon, he knew, but he had fallen already so why not give him the whole arsenal?

“But I won’t force you.” Tom said with finality and withdrew. _I won’t force you._ What he meant was: _I will make you ask for it._

It would be too easy if Tom played the rapist. Maybe he knew, maybe Albus was _really_ growing old and his mind was slipping from him like letters directly into that young man’s hands. He could put up some token resistance, give Tom a few bruises, a broken bone, and come guiltlessly. Tell himself after the deed was done what a villain Tom was, oh, how he had been right about him.

But he stood up. He began to unbutton his waistcoat before getting too impatient and just spelled away the entirety of his clothing – that drew laughter from Tom again. He was right. He did want it. He let the boy look (Tom looked so very young when he laughed or smiled) at his nakedness, at the flaws that came with age. Not many, it’s true, he still looked like a man in his forties, trim and handsome. But the years showed in the dark beneath his eyes and the lines at its corners, at the proud silver in his beard. Still, under Tom’s gaze – hungry, wolfish even, and triumphant – he felt desirable.

Gellert had often told him, the two of them lying in bed, Albus still sore from their lovemaking, how beautiful he was, how everything in him stirred his flesh. It was different with Tom, less like being a man under the care of another man and more like being a seized jewel, a land conquered by some barbarian might. That orphan looked at him with the same lust a killer has for the killing.

Albus faltered: it occurred to him that he didn’t know what to do next. He was stiff with disuse, having spent long years without sex. It was one thing to get on his knees and suck his ex-student off but this next part required the whole of his body and it usually started with kisses – with deep kisses that he could never expect or ask of Tom. So he took some steps back, put his hands against the desk behind him and allowed himself to watch as the other undressed.

Tom was beautiful and he knew so. He undressed with the same deliberate leisure that Gellert had once used, with the same ease of a person who is perfectly content with their own skin. Taller than Albus and stronger, built with the tightness of marble. His body fit to be exposed along with the male Greek beauties of muggle museums. This, too, was alien to Albus. To allow himself to want a body simply because it was a beautiful body. A stud who happened to be the Devil.

“Did you ever want me when I was in school?” Tom asked. “That would explain the…animosity.”

Albus chuckled. Almost scoffed.

“You were a _child._ ”

“On the seventh year I was almost as tall as I am today.”

“No, Tom. Neither you nor any other student.” He told him. “And the animosity I felt was entirely justified. I knew what you were. What you are.” ~~~~

Tom lifted a long, slender leg and pulled out his last piece of clothing – a sock. He asked:

“And what is that?”

“Dangerous.”

 Albus replied without hesitation.

Tom smiled and approached him. He then pushed the professor against the desk and made himself at home between his legs. Albus could feel the young man’s erection against his own, and the wood of the desk under his back. He lifted himself on his elbows.

“Do you,” he started, wanting to say _do you even know what you’re doing, boy?_ “—have you ever done this with another man?”

The pup Dark Lord seemed offended, an expression like the one he showed when they first met when he was but a small snake in the grass, a toothless hound. To show how experienced he was, Tom whispered the common spell. Albus felt the wetness of lube within, and gasped in surprise. He half-expected the bluntness of Tom’s cock, but the pup _did_ know what he was doing. It was a small mercy that to him his enemy’s pleasure was another victory to be won. That this was not the way he wished to see Albus bleed. He had prepared himself for pain, but it felt nice to accept the pleasure instead. Tom’s spread his legs further and breached him first with a finger. His other hand, surprisingly, curled around his teacher’s cock. That pulled the first moan from Albus mouth, not because it was too good – it wasn’t yet, he was only half-hard – but because it had been so long since he has last been touched by someone else.

“So tight.” Tom whispered, more to himself. Then, with the glee of a new-found torture, he put his lips to Albus’ ear: “How lonely you must be, professor.”

It stung like a hex. He didn’t expect that level of insight from Tom.  

Before he could retort Tom moved his hand upwards and slipped a thumb inside his mouth. Albus groaned around it; his student added a second finger to the one inside him and curled them, reaching that forgotten place within and his flesh was indomitable. It was senseless abandon because he hated that boy. He hated the teeth that teased his neck and the smile he felt against his skin, he hated the boy’s cruel little chuckle when he groaned loud and his body arched, he hated the fingers that touched him inside with tender mastery and made him remember how much he loved it, how much he missed it. He hated his own hate and his own lust. _Are you upset because you’re just as human as the rest of us, Liebling?_ Gellert would laugh at him.

Tom was looking at him and smiling, a proud brat.

“There’s no way you fucked him just as much as he fucked you,” he declared. “You _love_ this. You were lying, Dumbledore.”

“Yes,” he admitted, panting. “Yes, I was.”

He bit his lip and put himself back together, as much as he could, and asked with a slight tremor:

“Do it now, Tom.”

“I’m not called Tom anymo--”

“I’m not calling you by that stupid made up name,” Albus interrupted him impatiently. “Now fuck me.”

Such a hard word in his mouth. It didn’t become him and it showed and perhaps that’s why Tom obeyed without further question; smiling the smile of a wicked boy who used words like that since he learned how to speak. He knew the width of Albus’ desperation and that amused him to no end. Albus knew that, knew the picture he was painting of himself right now, but he simply didn’t care. He would, probably right after, he would have a moral hangover that would haunt him for years, _but,_ now—

A sigh. He spread his legs further, longing for the sliver of German vowels. Gellert’s blonde hair between his fingers. The glorious days of that summer, a lifetime ago, the happiest he had ever been in his life.

“Was he gentle?” Tom asked, pressing against his entrance with deliberately shallow thrusts. “Or rough?”

Tom entered him slowly, robbing him of the answer. Albus closed his eyes. Gentle: his sunlight lover, biting down a curse in German when he finally managed to slip inside. Albus was virgin-tight against him, both of them verging on eighteen, doing it often and fast, stealing every moment they could. Gentle, during that summer. They both called it _lovemaking._

After Ariana’s death, in the few times they met, Gellert had been rough. There was too much bile and rage between them for anything other than violence. He’d bite down his lip and endure as Gellert thrusted into him, barely affording him the courtesy of lube. It hurt but he liked it, panting against the wall and letting Gellert spill his wrath inside. This was the lover he deserved. He had thrown him in jail. He had abandoned him. He couldn’t make a case for gentleness.

“Rough,” Albus whispered with a voice that broke just slightly, when Tom was all the way inside. “He was rough.”

And Tom was too.

He pulled out almost entirely just to stab back in, dragging his former teacher’s hips to meet him halfway. There was some pain, some discomfort, but Albus did rejoice in it. He opened his eyes for a moment and caught a glance of the young man with eyes closed, an expression of concentration on his face. If not for the pleasure, for the hammering of Tom’s cock against his prostate that made him breathless, he would have laughed, and not without kindness. With furrowed brows and his dark hair falling over his slightly flushed face Tom looked just as human as Albus himself. Like a kid. A good, beautiful lad. A reminder so painful of what Gellert had been that when Albus closed his eyes again his eyelashes rested wet against his cheeks.

“Oh, that’s precious.” Tom said, cruel again when Albus looked at him once more. His pup Dark Lord, fucking him hard and good. “You’re _crying,_ Professor.”

He pressed his chest against Albus’, forcing his body to fold. Albus whimpered low – he was not that young and the position hurt a little. Like this, Tom’s dark hair was caressing his face. His lips were grazing at his enemy’s, the closest yet they got to a kiss.

“Want to call out his name?” the pup offered. “Go on, I’m allowing it. Pretend I’m him.”

_As if I need your permission, you stupid child_ Albus thought, almost lowering the defences of his mind to let Voldemort know it. He wanted to say: _I can’t pretend, you’re not even close to what he was. You’re nothing but a shadow._ But it wouldn’t be entirely true. Tom was good at what he did and, in his cruelty, in the ruthlessness of the way he fucked, in the warmth of his body, Albus did find what he was looking for when he first contemplated that stupid idea, when the longing for Gellert had become too much to bear. 

“You have to kiss me,” Albus informed with a faint smile. “Gellert kissed me all the time.”

He really did. Even when the battle of ‘45 was at its thickest Gellert had pressed his lips against his opponent’s, with enough drive and teeth to make him bleed. A kiss as rough as their first, which had been too forcibly taken. The look of surprise on Albus face was the same. He had never kissed anyone before Gellert. They did it gentler after, the second time, with Albus initiating it. They practiced it all summer until they were proficient in it. He could have never anticipated that a bloody, clumsy kiss would be their last, decades upon decades later.

Tom hesitated for a split second. But when he obeyed, his teacher thought of waxen hair, his long and thin fingers tangling themselves in dark tresses. Albus thought of Gellert’s mouth, which was thinner, but just as demanding and skilled as Tom’s. He enfolded Tom’s waist with his legs and pulled him in deeper, until the crown of his cock rested and pressed against his prostate. Funny how the body remembers. Almost ten years without getting any and there he was. Accepting that kindness – which was no kindness at all – from the pup Dark Lord’s lips, from his amazing cock, like a common, every day sinner. He did whisper his lost lover’s name under his breath and felt Tom chuckle against his lips. He knew the young man’s intentions but he was confident enough in his own strength. Tom was mapping his heart, but if they were to fight one day, Dumbledore believed he could win nonetheless.

Or maybe he was just being selfish. He could be, damn it, once in a while.

“Harder,” he ordered, “I told you to be rough.”

He was flipped over and pounded into. His body arched in bliss – everything was perfect, from Tom’s hand grabbing his hair (longer now than it had been when Gellert had last seen him) to the kiss he got when he turned his face enough to receive it. He was so guiltless when he finally came. That amazing, one-of-a-kind brain of his finally turned down, or turned up to its highest. Once, with Gellert, he had cried after. It had been too much. His body trembling while Gellert kissed him.

With Tom he was washed clean. Overstimulated and sated, he moaned loud and painfully when his student grabbed his hips and fucked him hard until he came inside, groaning above him. He wished he could have seen his face – Tom’s beautiful face in the moment of greatest vulnerability.

However, he did catch a glimpse. Opening his eyes and looking up, a whisper, brief of something almost innocent, almost childlike—something he shouldn’t have missed, all those years before. Tom with eyes closed. His expression still full of wonder. Perhaps this had been his first time, and for all his bravado maybe he had come to Albus untouched of that particular kind of touch. But it faded. He opened his eyes and became cruel again and Albus filled that moment away. Now there was just the pup Dark Lord, and the shadow of Grindelwald within him.

Tom stepped away.  Albus heard the shifting of the air as the other wizard spelled his clothes back on. He felt the cold on his back and the soreness setting in and the first tang of regret.

“Happy birthday, old man.” Tom said jovially. His fingers grazed fleetingly Albus’ spine. “Let’s do this again next year.”

Albus wanted to hoar that no, they wouldn’t, ever again. But he was weak, and wouldn’t make promises his flesh couldn’t keep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are my fuel. Feel free to kinkshame me at luthientinuviell.tumblr. 
> 
> And I leave my thanks to the wonderful @amelinda who so kindly beta'd this!


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